


Marvelous

by tuesday



Category: The Last Great American Dynasty – Taylor Swift (Song)
Genre: Cannibalism, F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Murder, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "You know what I like about you?" Paul said, though it wasn't really a question.  He didn't say her tits or her ass or her long, slender legs, all of which he'd spent so much time admiring that Rebekah felt more like her individual components than a whole person.  "You're fun.  You're so much fun.""I'll drink to that," Rebekah said and followed it up by tipping her champagne glass back so she didn't have to compliment him in turn.  After all, what was there to say?  I like your money?  I like the way you spend it?  I like your bright blue eyes and the way I sometimes imagine the light would look going out of them?  It was too early for some sentiments.
Relationships: Paul/Rebekah (The Last Great American Dynasty – Taylor Swift)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19
Collections: Jump Scare 2020





	Marvelous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/gifts).



"You know what I like about you?" Paul said, though it wasn't really a question. He didn't say her tits or her ass or her long, slender legs, all of which he'd spent so much time admiring that Rebekah felt more like her individual components than a whole person. "You're fun. You're so much fun."

"I'll drink to that," Rebekah said and followed it up by tipping her champagne glass back so she didn't have to compliment him in turn. After all, what was there to say? I like your money? I like the way you spend it? I like your bright blue eyes and the way I sometimes imagine the light would look going out of them? It was too early for some sentiments.

"Drink to this, too," Paul said, and he got down on one knee right there in the middle of the bustling party. Unlike Rebekah, Paul had no patience. He didn't understand the order of things.

But in the end, watching the Rhode Island set watch them, ready to judge, ready to tear into her for any perceived slight, Rebekah said yes.

No matter how it turned out, she didn't regret it.

—

Holiday House was a lovely home: two stories packed full with a whole bevy of bedrooms and bathrooms and all sorts of other rooms to add to the prestige of the house and its square footage. Ivy crept up its outside walls and looked almost cheerful in the right light. There was a pool, a garden, and a carriage house that had been turned into a garage. All of it stood over an ocean view. There was even a picturesque cliff to stand by (or push someone off of).

Paul loved it. He had to have it. Paul always got what he wanted, and this was no exception.

"We should have a little get together. Celebrate the move," Paul said. His hand held hers as they stared up at the house looming over them. His palm was sweaty. His grip was too tight.

"I'm always up for a party," Rebekah agreed as she contemplated the rose bushes standing on either side of the main entrance and the small field of them in the garden. They were more thorn than buds and the only thing she really liked about the house besides the ocean stretched out beside it. "It'll be marvelous, I'm sure."

"We'll be happy together," Paul said, his smile as empty as his promises. "I'm going to make you so happy."

Holiday House was a lovely home. Rebekah wanted to burn it down and throw a party in the ashes.

—

Paul was happy. He was always happy. He'd never met a single moment of hardship in his life, never experienced any upset money and power couldn't smooth over in a single instant. He could get away with literal murder.

"I think she's visiting her mother in St. Louis," Paul told Terrence, supposedly a mutual friend, but he'd always been on Paul's side. "You know how she is, always flitting off, no consideration for her husband. You'd think she doesn't remember she's married." That had been a complaint he'd lodged with her multiple times, the very last just before he'd buried her in the rose garden.

"She's too wild, that one," Terrence said. "I told you before you proposed: you should have gone for Alice or someone else from our set. Someone who understands their place. Rebekah's fun, but she never struck me as someone you could tie down."

Paul's smile was ugly. He took a sip of scotch and leaned back against the overstuffed couch. "I don't know. I think I've figured it out."

"Is there a draft in here?" Terrence shivered as Rebekah let the cold flame of her anger fill the room. "You should turn on the heat."

Eventually he left, and it was just Rebekah and Paul again.

"You've finally tied me down," Rebekah told Paul, trailing the wispy tips of her fingers down his cheek. "There'll be no getting rid of me now."

—

Paul talked a big game, but he was a giant baby.

After a few short dreams of her laying him out naked on their ridiculous mahogany dining table and methodically mincing him, starting with his feet, he took to leaving the lights on at night, then sleeping on the couch in the middle of the day. Those bright blue eyes were offset by fetching dark shadows. After a minor incident near the cliff's edge, he began to avoid the view he'd spent so much time bragging about making his own. Whatever happened to his love for pretty things with a hint of danger about them? She hadn't even pushed him off. When the rose bushes that framed the main entrance kept nicking him going in and out of the house, he had them uprooted entirely. They left two new fresh holes where bits of a body could be buried, a lovely little thought for their lovely, lovely home.

But Rebekah didn't want to bury Paul. Rebekah had meant her vows. Paul wanted to be together forever? Rebekah would fulfill that wish as completely as she knew how. After all, how much closer could one get than to be one body, one whole? She could take him in one piece at a time until they'd never be apart again.

Rebekah had always liked Paul's eyes. Maybe she'd start there.

—

If Paul hadn't liked the dreams of her consuming him from the bottom up—slow enough to savor the fresh, tender meat she took in one forkful at a time and the delicious terror and agony that wafted off of him far more enticingly than any home-cooked meal could boast—he _really_ didn't like when she started from the top.

She popped the first eye in her mouth, smiling as it burst between her teeth. Paul's remaining eye stared back at her, beautifully bright with unshed tears.

"Weren't you always telling me we should have dinner together more often?" Rebekah put down her fork and once more lifted the knife. Paul's friends had always told her she needed to work on her table manners, that she was too messy of an eater. Paul's friends could go fuck themselves. She was going to get blood _everywhere_.

—

Paul had a weak heart. Rebekah had always known this about him. He was weak. He couldn't handle upsets. They'd stay up half the night dancing, and he'd want to go to bed. He'd get so angry if she ushered the dawn in without him, but he'd never try to match her.

Now he was finally getting what he wanted, and he was reduced to begging her to leave him alone.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed over the roses, though it wasn't even the right rosebush. "I'm so sorry."

"I believe you," Rebekah told him as the thorns reached for him from the bush behind him.

"Please," Paul said for perhaps the first time in his life. " _Please_. I'm sorry."

"I just don't care," Rebekah said.

It was Rebekah's turn to get what she wanted.

—

Rebekah's new body was an adjustment. Her eyes were a brighter blue than they'd been before. They burned cold.

"Paul?" Rebekah hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it but not bothering to open the door wide enough to let Terrence inside. "I'm not sure. I was visiting my mother in St. Louis. He was gone by the time I came back." She smiled, as carefree as she felt. "I'm sure he'll turn up soon."


End file.
